The Paths We Walk Trails

By Felicia Ferguson

Set in Fairhope, Alabama, and the beach resort area of Scenic Highway 30A in Floridas panhandle, four thirty-something ladies support each other through the triumphs and hard decisions of life. When their own ladies retreat is canceled by the sudden illness of its veteran coordinator, Deli, Jess, Anne, and Lindsay travel to Seaside, Florida, for a local churchs meeting on biblical reflection and meditation. The verses they study bring unexpected insights into their relationships with God, their families, and even themselves.

Single ladies, Deli and Jess, gain greater insight into what it means to be a part of a godly relationship. Deli battles her abuse history and takes a step of faith toward a future she never imagined could be hers. Jess, on the other hand, struggles to come to terms with her failing three-year relationship with a man who has little interest in God and faith. Meanwhile, Anne and Lindsay confront issues of motherhood. Annes pre-teen daughter has begun a slow descent into silence and moodiness leading Anne to question her long-held beliefs about parenting. Lindsay has her own questions, but with two young daughters now both school-aged, hers is a battle of mothers guilt against a possible return to her first love: a career in law.

Their questions are our questions. Their journeys are our journeys. Come join them as they discover their own answers and Gods plan for their lives on The Paths We Walk.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512761191

Book preview

Chapter 1

Fairhope

The ping was ordinary and not unexpected by any of the four very busy ladies. E-mails regularly entered their inboxes and were read and deleted or saved and pondered as the need dictated. However, this e-mail, while disappointing in its contents, would lead to more changes than any of them would have dreamed. In fact, it was an e-mail that would change everything.

Anne Greeley stood in the hallway of a doctor’s office with a box of client files propped on one hip. She tugged her phone out of her purse at the sound of her incoming e-mail swoosh. Expecting it to be an announcement from her employer about a new drug in their pharmaceutical lineup, she was surprised to see it was from the church. She frowned as she thumbed open the e-mail. The ladies’ Bible study wasn’t due to start for another two weeks, and she wasn’t on any other church e-mail list, preferring to get her information from the bulletin or the webpage since it was on her work account.

Oh no! she gasped as she read the e-mail. Muriel Hartwig, who had led the Bible study for the past three years, had had an emergency bypass surgery after going to the ER with chest pains the night before. Anne figured the lady’s age to be around sixty, given that all of the study participants except herself and three others were in their late fifties or older. The ladies’ Bible study was being placed on hold while Muriel recovered, which also left the fall retreat up in the air since that group had always organized and hosted it.

Anne said a quick prayer for Muriel’s smooth transition from the hospital to rehab and then later home. She hated that Muriel was in pain and wished her all the best. The older lady was the reason Anne now had three of her closest friends. Jess, Lindsay, Deli, and Anne all attended the same church but either in different services or, in Deli’s case, so intermittently due to work obligations, they wouldn’t recognize one another, especially given Deli’s frequently changing hair color.

Muriel’s Bible study brought them all together on Tuesday nights. In spite of their differing marital statuses, work histories, and interests, the four ladies, all in their late thirties, had become fast friends and met at least once a month—or whenever their schedules allowed—for coffee or even a girls’ afternoon. Anne would be forever indebted to Muriel and her Bible study.

She knew the other three would be as surprised as she. Thumbing over to her text message app, Anne sent out a group text to her friends.

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Heartened by the instant camaraderie, Anne tucked her phone back into her purse and pushed open the office door, ready to answer questions and to stock sample supplies.

*~*~*

Jess McAdams, the volunteer coordinator of The Hospital at Fairhope, slipped through the crowded registration area bustling with patients checking in for procedures, appointments, or hospital stays. She scooted into an elevator just as the door was closing, greeted the older couple in the elevator with a smile, and pressed the button for the fourth floor. She noticed the already lit button for the third floor, which housed labor and delivery. They must be new grandparents or even great-grandparents. What a blessing for their family! she thought with a smile.

Jess would love to have a family of her own, and at thirty-seven, could hear the clock ticking. It apparently was loud enough that her boyfriend of three years, Mitch, overheard it. He was beginning to make broad hints about getting married. Mitch was a great guy who had a good job and a solid family background. He would be a good husband and father, and he loved her very much. She knew she should be overjoyed that he was ready for the next step—but she wasn’t.

It wasn’t that Jess didn’t love him. She did, deeply. She would love to grow old with Mitch holding her hand. They fit well together, and she could see them as husband and wife in all respects—except the one that was most important: their faith. They had both grown up in church, but whereas she had developed an abiding love for God, Mitch had learned to grin and bear Him. Age and experience hadn’t changed his opinion, but it had deepened hers.

The elevator dinged, heralding the older couple’s floor, and Jess stepped to the side to allow them plenty of room to exit. As the doors closed, she watched a young man wrap the woman in a bear hug. Must be the new dad, Jess thought with a fond smile, and then she turned her thoughts to the reason for leaving her office.

Muriel Hartwig had arrived at the ER the night before with chest pains and had been promptly whisked into an OR for an emergency bypass. At sixty-two, she had the energy of a woman half her age and the appetite of a born-and-raised Southerner. Jess wasn’t surprised to hear that the years of biscuits and gravy, fried chicken, and sweet tea had finally caught up with her.

The elevator dinged again, and Jess exited. The fourth floor was divided into the heart and stroke wings, with the ICU in the middle. She glanced into a vacant room as she turned left. Her mother had died in that hospital, and her room on the cancer wing of the second floor was set up much the same as those on this floor. It was odd, but working there didn’t bother Jess at all. In fact, she felt closer to her mother at the hospital than anywhere else. Amid the astringents and iodine, she would occasionally catch a whiff of her mother’s perfume. Even through the months of chemo and later hospice care, Jenna McAdams, ever the Southern lady, always put on her full face. It just wasn’t done otherwise.

Jess smiled as she reached the room of the lady who had become, if not a surrogate mother, at least a very wise aunt. That very wise aunt’s eyes brightened as she spied Jess in the doorway. Please, come in, Jess! she said, struggling to come to a sitting position.

Jess rushed to her bedside to stay the motion. Not yet, Muriel! Use the remote, and lift the head of the bed.

Muriel shook her head, banishing the last vestiges of the anesthesia-induced fog. You’ll have to forgive me, dear. I’m not accustomed to the sickbed.

Jess patted her arm fondly and replied, You’ll be up and at ’em in no time, I’m sure. How are you feeling today? I was surprised not to have to force my way through the throng of visitors.

Muriel chuckled. I’m sure they’re just waiting for the doctor to drop the flag, and then it’ll be pedal to the metal, she said without recrimination. NASCAR was second only to the Bible in Muriel’s list of favorite things. Jess sighed inwardly. She wished Mitch had those priorities, but she was certain that Alabama football would always be number one in his heart.

Hey, what’s this? Why the long face?

Caught in her rumination of things she couldn’t change, Jess blushed. Sorry, Muriel, I just drifted for a moment.

Muriel shot her a sharp look. Thinking about that young man of yours?

Jess glanced away, a trace of guilt furrowing her brow. What is wrong with me? I should be comforting Muriel, not the other way around. Inwardly castigating herself for her lack of manners, she pulled out the brightest smile from her normally cheery disposition bag and turned back. In a way, yes, but let’s talk about you. What did Dr. Hall say?

Muriel looked concerned at the abrupt change of topic. Jess thought she must suspect that all was not sunshine and roses in that quarter; but, bless her, the older lady answered the question without any more of her own. Well, he said what he’s been telling me for years, she cackled. No more of my favorite foods, or I will get to meet my Jesus sooner than He probably planned!

Jess nodded. I was wondering about that. Muriel, you have to start taking care of yourself. There are too many people who love and would miss you. Has the dietician been in yet to discuss anything?

I expect her to bear the bad news sometime today. Ah, me. She sighed and adjusted the sheet over her rotund form. I’ve known this was coming, but it’s hard to change a lifetime’s habits and preferences.

Well, think of it as you having other things you would rather do than be stuck in here, Jess teased.

A knock at the door turned Jess in its direction. She flashed a welcoming smile to greet the newcomer. Rachel, we were just talking about you!

Muriel grinned. So you’re the hatchet man—or rather, woman?

Rachel pushed her long, dark bangs behind her ear and chuckled. If you mean the person who is going to take away your fried foods, then yes.

Jess patted Muriel’s hand and said, I’ll leave you two to talk.

Muriel placed her hand on Jess’s to stay her a moment, and Jess knew Muriel hadn’t forgotten their earlier conversation. My dear, she whispered, if you’re having any doubts at all about your young man, don’t do anything in a hurry. It’s best to wait until you have peace.

Jess blinked back the sudden tears and offered a wan smile of thanks. We’ll talk again soon, Muriel. She rose, and Rachel took her place at Muriel’s bedside.

Jess paused at the door to gather herself before potentially meeting coworkers or volunteers under her direction. Peace, Muriel had said. But that was the question. Would she ever have peace without a change in Mitch’s faith?

She had so looked forward to the return of the Bible study and the women’s retreat, needing some of the insight she always gained from her older sisters in the faith. Unfortunately, it appeared that door had closed. It was doubtful that anyone would want to take up the reins in Muriel’s stead for either the study or the retreat, given her years of tenure in both positions.

Jess squared her shoulders and put aside her reflections. There were others there who had greater needs to tend to than her ambivalent heart. As she walked out the door, she found two of her floor volunteers, needing direction for the afternoon. Grateful for the distraction, she happily answered each question and assigned their duties.

*~*~*

Lindsay Davenport stepped into the deliciously cool Southern Floral Designs. Although the calendar said it was the end of August, the heat hadn’t taken the hint and begun its customary leave of absence. A moment later, she was warmly greeted with a smile from the store’s floral designer, Jerry.

Two years before, John had surprised her with a bouquet of flowers from the florist for her thirty-seventh birthday. The arrangement Jerry had created was stunning in its use of cabbage roses, peonies, and baby’s breath. Lindsay had used Southern Floral ever since for any floral needs.

Refrigerators filled with a variety of premade arrangements, each lovely in its own right, lined one wall. A few free-standing tables laden with small gifts filled the center of the room. With a friendly nod and a Hi, Jerry, Lindsay moved to get a closer look at the ready-made arrangements.

Jerry came out from behind the counter and met her. So I’m guessing you’ve heard about Muriel, then?

Lindsay nodded. I need something to take to her on behalf of myself and some friends. I don’t suppose there’s an arrangement that hasn’t made it up to her room already, is there?

Jerry chuckled then scratched his forehead above the eye patch that covered his right eye. Lindsay had no idea what had happened to the eye and figured she didn’t know him well enough to ask. Well, he answered, I’m thinking the carnations and the tea roses are still up for grabs, but then if you want something she can keep for later, we have a pretty bird of paradise that’s just about to pop.

Normally, Lindsay would love to purchase something that could be planted and enjoyed for years on end. However, she wasn’t certain how long Muriel would be in the hospital and later her cardiac therapy, and she didn’t want to put an added responsibility of caring for a plant on the older lady. Hmm, I think I need to stick with the ones that won’t need long-term care.

Jerry nodded. Probably not a bad idea.

But these, as pretty as they are, aren’t really speaking to me. What flowers do you have in stock, and do you have time to put something together for me now? I hate to ask, but I want to drop them off personally, and I have to pick up the girls from school to get them to dance and—

He put up his hands at the verbal onslaught. Abashed, Lindsay shook her head and eased back on her type-A overdrive.

Jerry offered an understanding smile. I’ve got just the thing in the back. I know how much you love cabbage roses, and I have a bouquet of yellow ones I’ve almost finished. Why don’t you take a look? He stepped into his design room behind the counter and returned with a display of yellow cabbage roses offset with greenery, wood, and a hint of baby’s breath.

Oh, Jerry, that’s perfect just as it is! What do you mean you haven’t finished it?

The tips of his ears pinked at the praise, but he cleared his throat and answered, I had planned to add a pop of a lily or two, but I’m more than willing to let you have it as is.

Oh, do! Muriel will love this. Lindsay pulled out her wallet, offered her credit card, and then selected a get well card from the display in front of the register. She signed all four ladies’ names to the card and her own to the receipt, then tucked the card in the arrangement and turned to leave. With a hurried Thank you so much, Jerry! she was out the door and back in her SUV. A quick glance at the clock revealed she would have time for a short visit with Muriel before needing to leave for the elementary school.

However, when she arrived at the nurses’ station on Muriel’s floor, the shift nurse informed her that Muriel was resting after having her first post-surgery physical therapy session. Lindsay shot a look of sympathy toward Muriel’s room and asked for the flowers to be delivered whenever it was appropriate and to let Muriel know she had stopped by. The nurse assured her she would, and Lindsay returned to her car. She looked at the clock again. There was just enough time to get the girls from school, change them into their leotards, and head to the dance studio. Where has the day gone? she thought.

*~*~*

Anne parked her Audi SUV by the neighborhood’s cluster mailboxes, cut the engine, and pulled out her box key. The kids would be getting off the bus in about an hour, which gave her just enough time to get the mail, change out of her work clothes, and begin thinking about supper. In the foreground she could see a foursome chatting on the ninth hole.

When she and Ted had first married, they had opted for a condo rather than a house since they had neither the money for a huge down payment nor the time for the upkeep of a large yard. Now, more than ten years later, their condo’s price per square foot had more than doubled, which made it one of their better investments. Ever better than that, though, was the location. She loved looking out at the water as she walked along Battles Wharf every morning. It was the most peaceful place for her devotionals.

Anne tugged at the magazines and junk mail that overflowed their mail slot. She made a mental note to once again call and cancel the unsolicited magazines that appeared out of nowhere because some company had shared their contact information. Quickly she sorted the junk to the back to be tossed in the garbage as soon as she got to the house.

A voice called from the other side of the cluster, You, too, huh?

Anne smiled in recognition. Betty, I don’t know how this happens. It seems like every time I turn around I’ve gotten another home decor magazine. I only ordered one thing from a totally different magazine two years ago!

Betty Graves came around the corner with an armful of mail hitched on her hip like a child. She shook her head. Guess I should have stopped the mail while we were in Seaside, but I honestly didn’t think we would be gone that long.

How was the beach? Anne asked, a hint of longing tingeing her words. It had been years since she had been to Florida.

The older woman wiped her glistening brow and said, Lovely as always and, as always, too short a stay, even though we were there two weeks.

Betty lived further down the street in the neighborhood, but they frequently met at the mailboxes, and they enjoyed talking when they saw each other at the country club, where they were both members. Betty and her husband, Jim, had owned a beach house in Seaside since the late 1980s, when the town was just being developed. It was an easy walk to the beach, and Betty loved sitting on her upstairs porch at night, listening to the waves.

She looked at the stack in front of her and shook her head. It’s a good thing I remembered to put a stop on the mail when we leave next month.

Oh? Anne asked. Where are you and Jim off to now?

"Japan. He has to go somewhere over there